Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Ezra
I’m sitting on the edge of the studio, guitar in hand, fingers brushing over the strings in slow movements.
Something’s clicking. I feel it in my chest, deep where all the real music lives. The notes are coming from somewhere I didn’t even know I had access to.
This song?
It’s not just another track. It’s been brewing inside me, just waiting to spill out. And now, finally, it’s here.
It’s not perfect. It’s never perfect with me to start with. But it’s real. Raw. Honest. And right now? It’s exactly what I need it to be.
I’ve never felt this way about a song before. Every line, every chord, I can hear it all coming together, a force of nature. But what makes this different? It’s about her.
Sloane.
I don’t know when it happened, but she’s slipped into every lyric, every verse, woven into the very fabric of the melody. She’s the one who makes this song matter. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m writing for her, even though I don’t know how to explain why.
I hit the last note, letting it ring out. It sounds like how I feel—a release. I’ve finally let go of something heavy that’s been sitting on my chest for far too long.
I don’t even need to listen back to know it’s good. I can feel it.
I grab my phone and text the guys. I don’t even think about it. They’ve been waiting for me to finish something, something I could actually show them. They deserve to hear it, and right now, I’m fucking proud of it.
Ezra: Got something to play for you guys. Meet me in the basement.
I don’t wait for a response, but I know they’ll be down. They always are.
Minutes later, they trickle in, looking half-interested, half-curious. Roman slouches against the doorframe, his usual cocky grin replaced with something more reserved. Creed’s got that quiet intensity of his, eyes scanning the room, looking for the catch.
Sloane is last, and I can’t help the way my chest tightens when she walks in. She’s wearing that damn soft smile again, the one that’s always on the verge of being more than just a smile.
“Alright,” I say, clearing my throat. “I think I’ve got something worth hearing.”
Roman raises an eyebrow. “Let’s hear it, then. I’ve got a couple of hours before my next gym sesh.”
Creed nods, not saying much. He never does unless it’s important.
I sit back down at the guitar, take a deep breath, and play.
The first few notes float out like a quiet ripple in water, and I can feel them settle in the room. Sloane’s eyes are on me, focused, hanging on every word. Maybe she’s just being polite, but I feel she’s listening to something deeper. Maybe she’s hearing the same thing I am.
“You’re the fire I can’t extinguish,
“The ember that burns the skin,
“You’re the thing I’m not supposed to want,
“But I can’t stop giving in.”
I pause for a moment, letting the lyrics sit in the space between us. These words, these feelings, have been building up, pulling at me, forcing me to face something I’m not ready to name. But when I hear it out loud, in this room, with them… I can’t ignore it.
I start again, fingers sliding over the strings as the melody picks up, moving into the second verse.
“Every step away from you
“Feels like drowning in the dark,
“I keep chasing shadows, pulling through,
“But I can’t outrun my heart.”
It’s this constant tug of war, a push and pull. A feeling of wanting something but knowing it’s dangerous. It’s the way I feel every time I look at her, every time Sloane’s close enough to touch but still just out of reach. I don’t know how to explain it, but the music gets it for me.
I let the guitar trail off, taking a breath before hitting the chorus:
“Oh, I’m lost in this fire,
“But I wouldn’t trade the burn,
“You’re the storm I can’t outrun,
“And still, I’ll never learn.”
I watch Sloane as the song goes on, and I swear I can see a shift on her face. Her usual guarded expression cracks, just for a second, and I can’t look away. I’ve written a lot of songs in my life, but I’ve never written one with her in mind.
Not in this way. Not this raw.
The last note hangs above us, and for a beat, there’s silence. It’s the kind of silence that makes my skin prickle.
Creed’s the first to break it. “Damn, Ezra. That… that’s something else.”
Roman’s got his arms crossed, trying to process what he’s heard. “I’m not gonna lie, man. That hit me. Like, really hit me.”
I glance over at Sloane, unsure of what to expect. I’m not looking for her to say anything. I want her to hear it. But when her eyes meet mine, I know she’s hearing it, feeling it.
“You okay?” I ask.
She tilts her head, that same smile on her lips, the one that’s starting to become a secret only we share.
“Yeah,” she says. “It’s… incredible. Really.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I… thanks. It’s… it’s for you. I mean, I’ve been chasing something in this song, and I think it’s you. Or… the way you make me feel.”
I don’t know why I say it. It just falls out of my mouth—it’s been waiting to be said for way too long.
There’s a brief silence as her gaze sharpens. She doesn’t say anything at first, stares at me with that quiet intensity. She’s trying to figure me out, or maybe she’s figuring out something in herself.
The guys don’t say anything, but I can feel them. They’re not judging, not criticizing. They’re just… waiting.
Sloane breaks the silence. “You’ve got a way with words, Ezra. I can tell this means something to you.”
Roman claps me on the back, pulling me out of my head. “Well, damn. Looks like we’ve got the start of a hit on our hands, huh?”
I can’t help but smile, even though something inside me is shifting. But I can’t put it into words.
“Yeah,” I say, glancing at Sloane one last time. “I hope so.”
“So, we’re calling it a win now, right?” Roman’s grin is half-playful, half-thoughtful. “I mean, it’s great, Ezra. It hits hard, but… what are we doing with it? I know we have a lot of shit going on at the moment, but we still want to move forward, right?”
“I’m in,” Creed says finally. “If this is the kind of track we’re putting out, then we don’t have time to waste.”
Roman nods, but there’s hesitation there. “Yeah, I was thinking we could unveil it at the Battle of Bands competition.”
“Are we still going to do that?” Creed jumps in. “With the press nipping at our heels all the time? It just doesn’t feel right.”
“So, we just let them defeat us?” Roman snaps.
Sloane shifts on her feet, stepping into the space between Roman and Creed, her gaze flicking between them.
“What Roman’s saying is right. You’re not going to let everything that’s happened keep you from pushing forward.
The press can only chase us if we let them.
You’ve got to control this moment, not let it control you. ”
I lean back, fingers grazing the strings of my guitar again, letting Sloane’s words wash over me.
“Yeah, I agree with Sloane,” I jump in. “We’ve been pushed down, stomped on, torn apart.
But this? This is our chance to rise, to show them all we’re still standing, still breathing, still hungry for more.
And we’re not going to let anyone dictate how we do it.
We’re going to take control, carve our own path, and make them see us for the music that’s always been ours. ”
Creed’s eyes narrow, and I can tell he’s still not completely sold.
“I get it. But it’s still a risk. We go into that competition, it’s not just about the music anymore.
It’s the noise, the drama. And I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t feel like playing into that circus while the media is already trying to kill us. ”
Roman’s lip curls into that usual half-smile. “You think I do? No one’s more over the circus than me. But what if we flip it on its head? What if we go in there and make it about the music? About the kind of band we really are?”
Creed doesn’t respond immediately. He’s still calculating, still weighing the pros and cons, but I see the slight shift in his eyes. His shoulders relax ever so slightly. It’s not all the way there, but it’s enough.
Sloane’s eyes catch mine, that quiet intensity between us returning, but she doesn’t say anything for a long moment.
She’s thinking, the wheels turning in that sharp mind of hers.
“I think what you need is to show them what you’re capable of.
You let them see your music, not our mess.
And if you really want to prove something, you have to own it. ”
There’s a pause. Then Roman grins, a lightbulb’s gone off in his head. “So, we’re doing it? We go to the Battle of the Bands, and we own the hell out of it?”
“Yeah,” I say, my fingers tightening on my guitar.
“We own it. This song, this moment—it’s ours.
We’ve poured every ounce of ourselves into this, and nothing, not the press, not the noise, not the lies, can take that from us.
We’re not here to cower or hide. We’re here to stand tall, to claim what’s ours and show the world that we’ll rise above it all.
Nothing’s going to stop us from doing what we came to do. ”
Creed looks between the three of us, the decision still there. Then, slowly, he nods. “Alright. But I’m telling you now, I’m not doing any of that fake, flashy shit. We play for the people who get it. That’s it. No distractions. Just like what we did at The Hollow.”
Roman’s grin widens. “Deal. We do it for us. And, yeah, for the people who care about the real thing.”
I glance at Sloane, my heart beating a little faster. She meets my gaze, and in that moment, something shifts again. There’s a bond that’s been forming between us, something unspoken but present in every conversation, every glance. I think she gets it, gets us. Gets why this matters.
She gives me a small, quiet smile. “Sounds like a plan.”
The room feels different now; the decision has cracked open something new. The tension’s lifted, and all that’s left is the feeling of possibility stretching out in front of us.
Roman pushes off the wall, stretching his arms above his head. “Alright, so we’re agreed. We hit the city, do some recording, and get ready to tear up that Battle of the Bands. Sloane, you’re coming with us?”
Sloane nods, her smile deepening. “You really think you can get rid of me that easily?”
Roman chuckles. “Not a chance.”
I glance down at the guitar in my hands, the decision still fresh. But as I look around the room, I feel something solidifying inside me. This is it. This is the moment we stop pretending, stop running from what we’re meant to be.
And we’re going to make sure the world knows it.
“Let’s do it,” I say quietly, the words feeling final.
And it seems we’ve found our way again.